Knifeslinger Girl
by Beef Jerky Yo
Summary: What if Chloe came back as a death machine of death. Continuation with a light touch of crossover fic with Gunslinger Girls. Mireille/Kirika pairing as an underlying tone, played out in later chapters
1. Chapter 1

Crossover fic of Noir and Gunslinger Girl, but mainly Noir. Continuation... sort of. If you don't know Gunslinger Girls very well, don't worry, it's just an excuse to get Chloe back. And if you don't know Noir, well why are you reading this? And normal disclaimer. I don't own Noir or Gunslinger Girls they're owned by Ryoe Tsukimura, Bee Train, Victor Entertainment, and Yu Aida, ADV Manga, Media Works; respectively.

Authors notes

"Mmm" is just the symbol I'm using to try and convey Kirika's way of speaking.

Strong shoujo ai in a few chapters. (Already have it written, but I don't know how to work it in yet)

Grammar mistakes under quotation marks are intentional, (everything else is a mistake.)

Knifeslinger Girl

Life at the Social Welfare Agency had been going slow for Matteo Pegolatti, well, life in general. A few years ago his cover was blown during an operation that gone wrong, and now the wrong people knew his face. Instead of disappearing in to a life of hiding, a friend of his introduced him to the Social Welfare Agency. It was an Italian government agency that carried out anti-terrorism and other special operations when normal means just weren't enough.

Now this isn't the normal run-of-the-mill government sponsored special ops division, not that special ops divisions are very run-of-the-mill... Little was known about this agency. Rumor has it that this agency used little girls to assassinate politicians. Truth be known this agency is much darker than that. They start by taking sick or dying children and implant robotic body parts in there bodies to turn them in to killing machines. Then they brainwash them, turning them in to brainless loyal puppets.

And that was Matteo's problem, not that he had gotten himself stuck right in the middle of a morally corrupt organization that toyed with life and death, no. His problem was that there was no sick or dying kids, well none for him. After Alessandro got Petrushka, Matteo spent months waiting for his own cyborg. It had gotten to the point where he was wishing a school bus would crash or the black plague would start spreading. He knew that was wrong to hope for, but he hated being stuck in the office. There was this blond girl that had been brought in, but her cancer was too far along, the engineers couldn't get the implants working right. He was sad to hear she didn't make it, sad, but not for her.

On his way home for the night, another member of the Agency jogged up behind Matteo and stopped him. "Matteo, do you have a minute?" Hilshire asked. Hilshire was an older man with a lot of pull at the office. "Sure," Matteo nodded and added, "Call me Matt." Matt had never really talked to Hilshire before, other than a brief introduction and the occasional graces in the hallways. "Ok, Matt, I've heard rumor of a new girl heading in tomorrow. She's in her early teens, athletic build, and I think she's coming to us from France." That Matt got excited. "France?" He asked. "What's her condition? Is it that bad that they'd send her all the way to us" Hilshire smiled, "The strange thing is, she's not sick, she was stabbed by a fork, and it nearly killed her. It doesn't make sense that we'd get her, since we usually don't get subjects who were hurt physically. Someone at the top must be pulling some strings." Matt laughed, "She was stabbed by a fork?! I guess she wont make very much of an assassin."

***********************

Mireille looked up from her computer, "Kirika, we have a job." "Mmm" The cute teenage Japanese girl answered from the other side of the room. Mireille continued. "The target doesn't seem all that important, but the pay is good. Looks like some low level government worker, but for the money their offering, it must be something personal, or their trying to silence someone who knows too much." "Mmm," Kirika replied, thoughtfully. Mireille agreed. "We'll be leaving for Italy in a few days. From the dossier they sent, it looks like our target likes to spend days off at local museums and the opera. I want you dressed up for this one, so tomorrow we'll go out and get you a new dress." Kirika sighed. Mireille had the sense for fashion, just as any tall, blond, French woman should. Where as Kirika only grew up with the sense for death. For her, clothing only had to serve a purpose. Mireille went on, "And we'll need to get you some new shoes too." Kirika looked out the window. "And we'll get your hair did and and get you some make up, and, oh, this'll be fun!" If she were anybody else, Kirika would have killed her. But because she needed Mireille, she chose to just put up with it, staring out the window as hard as she could.

***********************

For the first time in a long time Matt was excited to go to work. So much so, that he spilled his coffee down his pants, making him late for work. "Matteo you're late." Dr. Bianchi, the lead engineer told him. "Sorry sir." The doctor gave Matt a look of disapproval, "Do you know why you were sent to me this morning?" Matt lied,"No sir," The doctor lead Matt in to one of the rooms. "We've got a girl lined up for you. She came in from France yesterday. Someone found her, stabbed nearly to death in a field. They sent her to a hospital, but the doctors couldn't help her, so, they sent her to us." "Who is she?" Matt asked. Dr. Bianchi looked down, "Well, they didn't know. No identification on her, they said her clothing was strange, something out of the olden days. The only thing they sent with her was the weapon that killed her." Matt looked puzzled, "Why would they send that?" "Well, it was to hard to remove, we'll remove it during the implant process, if you want her." "Well, where is she?" Dr. Bianchi led them down to the room where she was sleeping, or, to be more exact, in a coma. "Here she is." Matt looked at his soon to be partner. The first thing he noticed was her hair, purple. "Purple?!" He asked. Dr. Bianchi laughed, "Yes, purple, and the thing is, the doctors say it's real." Matt wondered what the doc meant by that "Well doc, I think she'll do fine. When do you think she'll be ready?" "Should be ready in two weeks. You just need to think of a name, we'll do the rest." Matt smiled, "Thank you doctor. I can't wait to see her when she's finished."

End

I know it was short, and I jumped around a bit, but later chapters will try and focus on one story ark per chapter. And I know people always ask readers to read and review, and I never understood why until now. I'm writing this story not just for myself, but for the fans of the series. So I while I'm writing this I'll try to keep the reader in mind. So if something bugs you, or if there's something you would like to see worked in to the story, or any other kind of suggestions, feel free to let me know.


	2. Chapter 2

Normal disclaimer. I don't own Noir or Gunslinger Girls they're owned by Ryoe Tsukimura, Bee Train, Victor Entertainment, and Yu Aida, ADV Manga, Media Works; respectively.

Knifeslinger Girl - Ch 2

"Kirika... wake up." Mireille nudged the sleeping child with her nose, no answer. She nudged her again, this time pausing to take in her scent. "Wake up already..." Kirika lay there, fully aware of the partners playful ways. "Mmm" Mireille smiled, pulling the blankets off of Kirika. "Good morning... come on we've got a lot to do today." Kirika faked a smile. She didn't like it when Mireille took her shopping. Mireille gets... crazy when she get near clothing.

They had a light breakfast. Mireille sat there, imagining Kirika in different outfits, each one more ridiculous than the last. Picturing Kirika in pigtails and bows had Mireille giggling fits. Kirika could only imagine the horrors Mireille was planning for her this God forsaken day. It surprised Kirika just how frightening a beautiful woman sitting in a chair and humming to herself, could be. Kirika knew today was going to be turn torture, slow painful torture.

"Come on out Kirika, I want to see how it fits you." Kirika hated the dress Mireille had picked out for her. It had no pockets for carrying equipment. It was too tight to conceal her Beretta under. And, to top it all off, it was white, white and frilly. Not only did it draw attention to her, wouldn't blend in at night, and was prone to getting snagged on random things, but it was white. Who in there right mind would wear white?!

Kirika finished tying her shoes back on then stepped out of the fitting room. Mireille smiled, "You look... cute." Kirika looked down and sighed. "Mmm" "What's wrong, don't you like the dress?" Kirika looked up to Mireille, a hint of sadness in her eyes, "No this dress is fine." Mireille wasn't convinced. She took Kirika by the chin and tilted her eyes up to her own. "Are you sure, it doesn't seem like you like it." This time Kirika's expression revealed nothing, but Mireille knew her partner better than anyone else. "You know, lets find you a cuter dress. I think that blue one we had earlier might be better." "Mmm" Kirika smiled.

By lunch time, Kirika had a dress. It was light hunter green, modest, timed with darker crushed velvet, and very plane. Mireille wanted to get her something a little more fancy, as they walked past it, her little partners eyes lit up. And very seldom do Kirika's eyes light up. The last time that happened, Mireille ended up buying her a pearl pendant. Kirika loved that thing, it's the only piece of jewelry she would wear, well it was. About a year ago it was damaged during a mission that had gone wrong. Mireille remembered that mission, it was the first time Kirika had ever run out of ammo. There were more body guards than the dossier had stated. Not too many that they couldn't deal with them, but when you kill everybody that is supposed to be in the house, you get surprised to find another five guards sitting outside of the targets room. During the confusion, the pendant had been chipped. Mireille had worried, thinking Kirika had been shot, but her partner got up and continued onward. In the targets room they had found the man they were sent to kill. He had been woken up from the commotion outside his room. They each put a round in his chest and he hit the ground, dead. Mireille turned to walk away, but stopped when she heard Kirika fire again. Mireille turned around panicking, thinking they had missed another guard, but she saw Kirika standing over the target and she fired again... and again... and again, Pausing only every few seconds to reload. When her Beretta ran dry, she turned and left. As she passed Mireille her partner saw a single tear run down her cheek.

"Let's find some you some new shoes, something that'll match but you also need to be able to work in them," Mireille said as she finished her ice cream. Kirika sighed, tired from shopping. "Don't worry," Mireille said, "Now that we've got a dress, the shoes should find themselves." They found, what Mireille called, a neat little shop, and went inside. Kirika immediately picked out a pair that were functional, but Mireille stopped her with a harsh condescending, "No." "Whats wrong with these ones?" Kirika asked foolishly. Mireille went on, and on, and on, and on, about how they didn't match the dress, that they were out of season, that they were tacky and blah blah blah. Kirika tuned Mireille out, nodding every once in a while and throwing in an apologetic, "Mmm" when Mireille would pause to take another breath. When it seemed like Mireille was done with her speech, Kirika started to nod like she understood any of what her blond partner had said. Mireille smiled, "Good, so you understand." "Mmm," Kirika replied, slowly dying inside.

This time Kirika let Mireille pick out the shoes, thinking it would save time, it didn't. Mireille had lost it. She had Kirika parading around in shoe after shoe, trying on hats and bags, sunglasses and even more shoes. Each article and accessory as unacceptable as the last, And Kirika couldn't care either way. She still didn't understand the importance of whether or not a shoe had laces or a strap, but knew better than to ask again. They spent hours doing this, pushing the shopkeep to his limit. He would have been mad if he hadn't sold more today than he normally did in a week.

Now that Kirika had her new outfit, they had to break it in, so that Kirika could, as Mireille put it,"get used to moving around in them." Kirika was new to dresses and fancy shoes, but she would be able to do the job in anything. This was just Mireille's excuse to take her out. Usually they would eat at home, since it's never a good idea for assassins at there level to ever spend more time in public than they need. But that never stopped Mireille, she loved to live a glamorous life, diamonds and pearls and flashy clothing, never thinking that drawing attention to herself could be bad when trying to be discreet. They went out to a nice restaurant, well Mireille called it nice. It was the finest restaurant in Paris. The kind of place you need to get reservations months in advance, or threaten the owner with a visit by Noir. When they got there they were seated by an overly nervous hostess. The seating wasn't all that good, as planed, sometimes Mireille understood laying low.

The wait wasn't long, but the waiter was being a little to friendly. "Did you see the way he was looking at me?" asked Mireille. "Mmm. Do you think he's Soldats?" Mireille smiled, "No, I think he likes me." Even worse, Kirika thought, reaching for her Beretta, "I'll head for the bathrooms then take him out around the back of the building." Mireille blushed and smiled, "Getting a little protective, are we?" Kirika's gaze dropped, she knew she had overdone it. But the thought of that little punk waiter talking to her Mireille was just too much... way too much, she grabbed for her Beretta again. The waiter returned just in time to interrupt Kirika's thoughts of killing him, bring their drinks. "And what would a beautiful woman like you, like for dinner tonight?" Mireille smiled, Kirika made a face like she was going to shoot him. "Oh you're so kind..." Mireille said before placing her order. "And what would your daughter like?" So surprised by the question they ordered Kirika's dinner before they even knew to correct his mistake.

"He thinks I'm you daughter? Why?" Kirika asked. Mireille was too pissed to think straight, how could he think she was so old that she'd have a teenage daughter. "Mmm, Mireille... you there? I could still kill him if you'd like." Mireille's eyes light up, "Yes! Kill that bastard!" Kirika stood up, hand in her purse. "Wait... there's too many people, and well... well, we don't need to kill him, even if he thought I was old." "Mmm" Kirika sat down. "If anything, we should at least mess with him." Mireille stated. Kirika went for her Beretta once again. "No, not that... lets mess with his mind, when he brings us our food, kiss me." "Mmm?!" Kirika's mind panicked. It's not like they hadn't kissed before, but it was in the privacy of their home, not in front of the whole world, and to do so, so casually... her heart thumped hard in her chest. "Mmm," she agreed nervously. Seconds ticked away slower as her heart beat faster, drowning out the mindless chatter of the people around her. Minutes felt like hours as she waited for her food. The longer she waited the more she knew she couldn't back down. Not that she didn't want to but still... not like this, not in front of all these people. But still...

The waiter approached, bringing their food. Mireille made her move. Sliding her chair over next to Kirika's and positioning herself above her. Kirika's eyes shown fear and excitement. Her lips began to part, slowly moving up to meet Mireille's. They kissed lightly, just going through the motion, but it became more than an act. Kirika didn't care about the waiter or the people around them, all she knew was that the person she was with, the person she was in love with was kissing her. Even after the horrible day she had, even with all she had to put up with, she was with her, and that was more important to her than everything.

The waiter dropped the tray, and gasped. People stared and the waiter and at the two women. "Sorry Madam, I'll have the chef remake it right away." "No, it's fine," Mireille smiled, then looked at Kirika. "I think I'm hungry for something else." She took Kirika by the arm and they left the restaurant, everybody watching as they left.

"Did you see his face? That was great." Mireille said practically skipping. "Mmm" "What's wrong, I thought that was fun." Kirika's hand crept up to her lips and rubbed them softly. "What are you hungry for now," she asked shyly. Mireille wondered the little girl was joking, hungry or if she was suggesting something else. "Let's head home, I don't want to spend the rest of tonight with anyone other than you." "Mmm." Kirika smiled.

End

I know, I know this chapter had nothing to do with Knifesling-ing but the next chapter will be about Chloe's training to become an assassin. (That's right... she needs to be trained.) And sorry to the two people who read the first chapter and have been waiting for this one. I know people don't like to hear excuses, but I had midterms, my computer broke, and my house was burglarized. So please accept my apology and hopefully my next chapter won't take as long to write.

Again I ask for what the reader wants to read. I'm writing this, not only for my self, but for the people who are going to read it.


	3. Chapter 3

Normal disclaimer. I don't own Noir or Gunslinger Girls they're owned by Ryoe Tsukimura, Bee Train, Victor Entertainment, and Yu Aida, ADV Manga, Media Works; respectively.

Knifeslinger Girl - Ch 3

"Wake up..." he breathed to her softly. Her eyes fluttered. "Come on now..." her muscles twitched, but she stayed asleep. "Chloe, wake up." Nothing...

"What's wrong with her," Matt asked. The engineers looked at his clipboard, checked her vitals, and kicked a few machines. "She must have had a really strong will, since she needed more medication than the other girls did. Her whole conditioning process took longer than the other girls, so we don't know how long it'll take for the medication to wear off." Matt thought to himself what is this guy, a civil engineer. "What, you just fill her full of drugs, and just predict what'll happen?" Engineer blinked... awkward silence... "there's more to it than that." Matt stared at the tech, the tech avoided his gaze. "Well, she won't be ready for a while, you can go home, and will let you know when she's ready." Matt didn't want them to screw up anything else, so he shook his head, "I'll stay here, with her, until she wakes up..."

"How Is she doing?" Matt asked the nurse who was checking the condition of the sleeping girl. The nurse looked annoyed, "I don't really know," she said flatly. Her routine inspection was everything but routine. Body temperature 60°, blood pressure 20/10, heart rate none. Subjects pupil reaction to light, none. "Her vitals of fine, well normal for the subjects I work with, but she still unconscious. She doesn't react to anything I do. I really don't know what to say, there's nothing physically wrong with her... you know, probably be better if you just went home, we'll let you know when she wakes up." Matt shook his head, staying with his decision, "no, I'd rather be here for her when she wakes up." The nurse looked puzzled, "why, it's not like you know, I mean, she's not even real." "I know, I know it's just... I don't know. I know she's not real, but I don't know, I feel like I owe it to her, to be there for her when she wakes up. I can't really explain it, but I feel like, I don't know..."

"Matt... hey, Matt." The nurse nudged him, "Mr. Pegolatti, your partner is ready." Matt bolt upright in his chair, looking around. "She's awake!?" The nurse giggled at his excitement, "well, not awake, but she's up and functional." Matt followed the nurse from the waiting room he was sleeping in, back into the room where Chloe had been recovered. The room was now filled with people, some wearing suits, some in lab coats and a few in casual wear. Normally there wouldn't be this many people for the awakening of the test subjects, but this one was an anomaly. She was the oldest girl chosen for the program, and the first to need that level of conditioning. Matt pushed his way to the front, finding the head technician. "Well, she finally up?" Chloe answered the question for him, by turning to look at him. "Chloe?" He asked. She blinked at him, once, twice. He waited for what seemed like hours, then, she nodded. "Yes, I am Chloe."

It was weird, like getting a new car, or a dog. To Matt, something seemed off about Chloe. He knew she was a robot, he knew she used to be a girl, but he didn't know what she was now. He didn't know how to deal with her. He didn't know how to talk to her, he didn't know how to treat her. He was told that the conditioning would brainwash her, making her completely loyal, and that she would follow any of his orders. But, it wasn't right. She was human... well, the key word being "was". Just because she was a robot, did that give him the right to order her around? Or even, if he did out rank her, was it okay to have that much control over one human being.

The day had started with the engineers explaining all the different functions and limitations of his partner. All the while his partner sat there, watching him, blinking only enough to seem almost human. They couldn't give him full command over her yet, this was just an introduction. "Well, is she ready?" Matt asked. The engineers nodded, pleased with their work. "Well, when can she began training?" The engineers talked it out amongst themselves, checked the computers, poked Chloe and even called a few people. "We'll be keeping her here at night, and running some test during the day, for a while. But, when we're not testing her, you can start her out with some light training.

"A little higher... good. Don't tense up your arm, relax your shoulder, line up your sights with what you want to hit. Breath in... out.. and fire." Click. Chloe blinked audibly, as the hammer hit fell on her unloaded Bretta Px4. She looked up to Matt, hopping for acknowledgment. "Good, remember that feeling, relaxed. If you tense up, your aim will be off. Strip you weapon, clean it, and practice a few more times, and when I get back, we'll try this with live ammunition." Chloe nodded. "Yes sir." Matt sighed.

"How's she doing?" The requisition officer asked Matt. Matt really didn't care for small talk, seeing how he was on the 5th page of the "correct form" needed for a small box of 9mm rounds. Just one question left, and they wanted his blood type and the blood type of the target the rounds were intended for. The blood type of who the rounds were intended for? Paper, carbon negative? N/A? but there were only boxes for A, B, AB and O. Just leave it blank? "How's your partner?" the requisition officer asked again. "Huh... wha... oh sorry, she's doing fine." Matt stammered. "Will this be all that you'll be needing today, Mr. Pegolatti?" Matt asked himself if getting Chloe a holster or any other piece equipment would be worth another mountain of paper work. "You forgot to sign here, Mr. Pegolatti," the requisition officer answered for him.

An explosion ripped through Matt's ears. He dug his fingers deeper into his ear canals, fearing he might touch his brain. Another explosion ripped by and he winced in pain. "Are you okay, Mr. Pegolatti?" Chloe asked. "Yeah, I just forgot my earplugs, and this indoor shooting range is a bitch on my ears." Chloe nodded, then fired again. Matt didn't know if her prosthetics hadn't fully adjusted yet, or if Chloe was just blind, but she couldn't hit the target. "That's enough, we'll try this again tomorrow." Matt said shaking his head. Chloe nodded, removing the magazine and ejecting a round from her Beretta like Matt showed her.

Matt paced back and forth, staring at the ground, shaking his head. Day after day he spent trying to teach Chloe how to shoot, and day after day she continued to miss the target. She was improving, but not at the rate he was hoping for. "Come on Chloe, this shouldn't be this difficult. Extend your arm, line up your shot, pull the trigger." Chloe nodded, extended her arm, paused and fired, still missing the target. Matt sighed heavily. "Okay, your shot hit about five inches left of your target, and a little low. So this time, aim five inches to the right. And if you are hitting low try relaxing your arm a little. Now try again. Chloe fired again, her Beretta jumping a little more than normal. This time, a tiny hole ripped through the target, right near the middle. Chloe smiled and turned around to see if Matt was pleased, but Matt screamed, and knocked the weapon out of her hands. "Shit. Careful where you're pointing that thing." Chloe nodded.

"Are you sure she's ready for this kind of training?" Hilshire asked, huddled in his chair for warmth. Matt rubbed his hands together, nodding pointlessly considering how dark it was. "She gets the concepts, but I can't teach her logic. So I decided that I'd start her off with some hands on training. That way, when I get back to teaching her the basics, they will make more sense to her." But isn't this dangerous for her, I mean she only qualified on the range a month ago. She hasn't ever been on a mission, not even to watch." Matt shook his head, "She'll do fine, she knows how to shoot, she just needs to know why. She's got us on stand by, not more than fifty yards way. The targets are just a bunch of lowlifes, who haven't gotten past simple mugging, and making all of that moot, she's a robot. She can rip a grown mans arms off and beat him ugly with them. So even if she isn't the best shot, I'm sure she'll be fine." Hilshire laughed and sighed with the same breath, "Yeah I hope so, or you can always wait for the next girl to come in."

Chloe checked her weapon once again, making sure it was loaded and ready to go. The mission was simple. Step one, sneak in, keeping track of how many people are in the warehouse. Step two, find Jasper. Step three, put a bullet in his brain. Step four, kill anyone in the room. Step five, kill anyone else on the way out. Step six, make sure the number of people you counted on the way in equals the number of people dead, plus Jasper. In and out in less than ten minutes. Easier done than said, Chloe thought as she checked her weapon one last time before stowing it behind her back. Be careful, be cautious, and be ready Matt always told her.

As she stepped through the door, the first thing she noticed was how dark it was. Her eyes blinked mechanically as they switched to night vision. She counted two people standing over a trash can fire, drinking and talking quietly. She counted one man sleeping in a chair by the door with an empty bottle in his lap, he must have been their guard. She made her way around the side of the building, slowly as to not wake the passed out guard. She made her way to the back of the building, where the office was located, a soft glow of light under the door let her know someone was in there, or someone didn't care about energy conservation, either way, a dead man. She put her hand on her Px4 as she opened the door.

"Who the hell are you!" A man shouted, waking up every one in the building, the sounds of shuffling feet and weapons being cocked let her know that her stealthy entrance had just ended. "Are you Jasper?" Chloe asked with in a dark raspy voice she didn't know she had. The man shook his head no, but his stupid hot pink shirt with the word Jasper splotched in white paint and glitter, told her otherwise. "Who sent you?" The man not willing to call himself Jasper asked. Matt told her that the first rule if you ever got captured was never give them any information. But, seeing how, at the moment, she wasn't actually captured she replied, "I'm from the Social Welfare Agency. My handler Mr. Pegolatti sent me in for a training mission. I've been sent here to kill you," she looked around, "all of you." Everyone laughed, one guy laughed so hard he started crying. The not-so-Jasper laughed out, "Social Welfare Agency, a little girl, training, kill me." Chloe nodded. Everyone let out an even bigger laugh. Not-Jasper pulled out a knife, "Well little miss assassin, sorry to break it to you, but unless you are some kind of demon sent from hell in a very cute package, I think were going to hold you down, tie you up, and my men will have their way with you, 'cause if you can't tell from my shirt, I'm not in to little girls." Chloe saw the knife wink at her. The men laughed greedily. Chloe giggled too, "I may not be a demon, but what if I told you I'm a robot." Everyone laughed harder than ever, one man fell to the ground, holding his sides. Another fell holding his throat. Jasper, who actually was Jasper the whole time, wondered where his knife went, until he found it in his chest... and then in his leg... and his stomach. "What the Hell?" Someone screamed, as the lights went out. "Where is she?" Someone else screamed. "gurgle " someone else tried to say. "Someone stop..." one man started saying.

As the cries of pain and the sound of blood stopped, Chloe turned and walked out of the room. She shook the blood off of Jasper's knife, thinking for a gay man Jasper sure had a good taste for long pointy objects. As she got to the door she saw the same passed out guard she saw on the way in and had too choose between finishing step five of her mission or keeping her new knife clean. After she killed him and was out the door, she decided she would let him live, because she didn't want to get the knife dirty again... damn it, she realized, too late.

She made her way back to the car where Matt and the non important person were waiting. Matt opened her door and asked, "What happened, why didn't you finish the mission?" Chloe shook her head, "No, I'm done." She smiled, wanting praise. Matt looked puzzled, "We didn't hear any gunshots, are you sure you finished everything?" She realized she had forgotten step five. "Oh crap, I'll be right back..." she ran off in to the darkness. "What the hell?" Matt and Hilshire asked in unison. One dull bang in the warehouse, and one less round in Chloe's Beretta and she came skipping back, step five now complete.

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Authors notes. First off, I'm sorry it took so long, I have no excuses. Second, I'm sorry if the formatting and sentence structure changed around too much, this was stretched out over 20 different times and different places where I would write one or two paragraphs, then quite for weeks at a time. And switching between typing and speaking into speech recognition software didn't help either.

Anyway, to make up for making you all wait so long, here's a preview of the next chapter, to let you know I'm already started working on it and hopefully it won't take as long to finish.

Again I ask for what the reader wants to read. I'm writing this, not only for my self, but for the people who are going to read it.


	4. Chapter 4

Normal disclaimer. I don't own Noir or Gunslinger Girls they're owned by Ryoe Tsukimura, Bee Train, Victor Entertainment, and Yu Aida, ADV Manga, Media Works; respectively.

Mmm is Kirika's monosalabic way of talking.

And there's been a big change in formatting, I hope it's a much easier read.

Knifeslinger Girl Chapter 4

"So... who's our target?" Kirika asked softly.

The directness of her question startled Mireille. It wasn't like Kirika to ask questions or even talk. Looking at her partner intently, Mireille wondered if there was something else Kirika wanted to ask, something she was too shy to ask. But Kirika's doe like eyes revealed nothing, as they usually did. So Mireille had no other option other than answer and see where that leads.

"It's a man named Matteo Pegolatti. He's a low level worker for some Italian government agency. He doesn't seem like a high level target, but the pay is twice that of a normal job. It wouldn't a good idea to attack him at work, since there's a chance that a government agency would have security, or the police could get involved. I think we should scope out the place first, find out his patterns, you know, take our time. This should be a straight forward job, and as long as we play it safe this should easy."

"Mmm," Kirika said ominously.

The flight in to Italy was nice and short. It would have been easier to drive there, having to ship their weapons was always a pain, but Mireille wanted to enjoy their journey as much as they could, which meant they got to act like tourists.

"Where should we go first?" The cheerful blond asked with a giant smile across her face.

"Mmm... the target's house?" Kirika answered thoughtfully.

Pouting, Mireille shook her head, "No I mean here, in Florence. What do you want to see?"

"Firenze..." Kirika muttered, her mind filled with childlike wonder. "The Uffizi?" She decided, seeing as how it was the only place she had read about on the plane ride over.

"Oh Galleria degli Uffizi..." Mireille said in a horrible Italian accent, "I didn't know you were so cultured."

"Mmm... Kirika nodded, pretending she knew what cultured meant.

It was fascinating to say the least. What they expected to be a boring museum, turned out to be filled with works of art more breath taking that the last. There was a struggle going on between wanting to see the next piece of art and wanting to grow old in front of the one they were looking at.

They had lunch in a small cafe next to the gift shop. The food was amazingly good for such a small shop, but the atmosphere was appalling. There were people stacked arm to arm, floor to ceiling, like sardines, which was fitting because that's what Mireille ordered. They left with both their fill of food and their fill of people.

Feeling a little over whelmed with people, they decided to spend the rest of the day alone. Tired from both their trip and the museum, they retreated to the quiet safety of their hotel room. Mireille wanted them to keep a low profile so she booked them in a cheap six star beach side resort. Kirika was on the verge of asking how they were beach side when Florence was smack dab in the middle of the Italian country side, but she knew better than to question Mireille's ability to live in the lap of luxury even while on a mission.

"Where should we have dinner?" Mireille asked, putting on an elegant form fitting low-cut dress.

"Shouldn't we recon the target's house?" The quiet girl asked, wanting to avoid unnecessarily being around people.

"Oh that can wait till tomorrow." Mireille said, pulling on a pair if long leather boots.

Kirika's face went slack, but she kept her composure, "Shouldn't we at least locate the site to plan the best place to observe our target from?"

"Oh you worry too much. Let's just relax tonight." Mireille said in short defiant voice.

There was no chance of changing Mireille's mind. Kirika slipped on her new dress, pulling off the tags as she went, and mentally prepared herself to deal with another social interaction.

Mireille had gotten reservations at a fancy little restaurant less than a block away from their hotel. It wasn't the best restaurant in the city, it was the best restaurant in Europe. The place had a two month waiting time for reservations, but luckily for them, the name Noir still struck the same amount fear overseas as it did at home. Since they were still full from lunch, they had a small fourteen course meal, each course making Kirika wrinkle up her cute nose.

"Isn't this just Heaven?" Mireille asked, biting in to a bit of soft cheese and fruit.

"Mmm." Kirika responded, hiding her sarcasm and wishing they were at a burger joint or eating a home cooked meal.

After their quick bite to eat, Mireille pulled Kirika around a local park to watch the sun set and the street lights flicker on. This, at least, was more pleasant for Kirika, for she always found street lights were like blossoming trees or tiny fireworks. The city at night was beautiful. The lights were mostly oil burning or at least they weren't all electric. The soft dancing flames gave off a strongly romantic vibe and cast the on looker in to a deep sense of relaxation. As they strolled around the park, Mireille stopped pulling on Kirika's hand and started holding it gently. Pretty soon they were walking like newlyweds on a romantic outing, clinging to each other and walking very slow.

"Do we really have to spoil such a perfect trip with the sin of blood?" Mireille asked gently.

They sat down on a park bench while Kirika tried to find the words to respond, "We've already taken the job, and to stop now would be a breach of contract."

"I know that," Mireille said irritated, for she had only recently taught Kirika the legal side of their profession.

With much reluctance, Mireille decided to swing by the address of their target. It was a damp looking old apartment that really clashed with the elegance they had seen the rest of the day. It just proved Mireille's point that this person must have been a nobody. A high level government worker would be able to afford his own house, or at least a nicer apartment in a better neighborhood. Their target lived on the third floor of a five story building, which was far from ideal. The building was so old it didn't even have a fire escape to sneak up. And on top of it all, they were less than a block from a fire department. A hit in residential areas isn't much of a problem when it come to dealing with civilians, they tended to ignore the sounds of gunfire, but government workers like firemen would at least feel the need to alert the police. So with both his home and his office scratched of the list of places to carry out the hit, their only option would be to follow their target, learn his habits, and attack when he would be the most vulnerable.

There plan seemed simple on paper. After waiting more than five hours for the mark to leave his home, they had a hard time of following him through the heavy traffic. Then after losing him a few times, they ended up tracking him to a parking lot under the office building where he worked. An underground parking lot would have been a good location for the job, even with a normal security guard, but the man posted at the entrance looked official, like a police officer. It turned out that the government agency their target worked for shared a parking lot with the police department next door.

The waiting continued. They saw their target leave a few times during the day, but Mireille knew it would have been pointless to follow him because he probably never went the same place twice. It was a social welfare agency, which, since there was no information on what they did, Mireille assumed their target would travel from house to house, doing government things. After a long day of sitting and waiting, the watched their target get in to his car, and they followed him home. He spent the rest of the night indoors.

After the second day of waiting and finding nothing, Mireille said with a groan, "If he doesn't spend any time out of the house, I guess we'll have to hit him there. The streets are too crowded to take him out to or from work, and it would be foolish to attack him at work. Hopefully he'll have something he does on the weekends."

"Mmm," Kirika said with a nod.

The weekend couldn't come any sooner. They still stalked the target, hoping he'd have something he did once a week, like hang out at a bar with the fellows, but from what they could tell, their target didn't have a social life. Saturday morning came and went, while their target stayed safely inside. But, a little after lunch time, they saw him emerge from his house, his skin pale from years of staying indoors. He didn't get in to his car, but instead started walking towards down town. He popped in to a coffee shop for an afternoon espresso and sat there, sipping his drink and reading a newspaper. Kirika looked longing at the coffee in his hands, it would have helped to take off the edge of all this waiting. After a long half an hour, there target checked his watch, looked shocked, then paid and hurried down town. They found him standing right outside of an opera house, clutching a ticket. Since they didn't have tickets and the show was sold out, they waited outside, wanting to avoid any extra trouble.

"If this is a regular thing, this could be perfect." Mireille said with a grin, she always loved it when a plan came together. "We won't know until next week, but if he comes back again, well know, and then I guess we'll just wait until the week after. I didn't realize this would be such a long trip."

"Mmm." Kirika muttered with a groan, she knew what was going to happen next.

"Shopping..." Mireille hummed the following Monday. Their target had spent all of Sunday in his house, only stepping outside to toss out his garbage. They had had an easier time on a job getting rid of a congress man's daughter who was hidden deep under witness protection. Assuming their target would spend the rest of his week in and around the office, Mireille suggested they do a little shopping. They had only brought a week's worth of clothing and Mireille refused to wear the same thing three weeks in a row. Kirika didn't mind, but knew better than to object to Mireille wanting to shop.

"Try this on, and this one." Seemed to be a mantra Mireille was chanting as they trudged from shop to shop. It was torture, but Kirika did take a small comfort in seeing her partner so happy. When Mireille smiled, so did she, on the inside. After what felt like years, only happened to be a few days, but Kirika was certain she had enough clothes to last her the rest of her life, and had the shoes to match. It wasn't a complete was of time though, they did obtain sound suppressers through Mireille's contact and they took a good look around the opera house. One day after lunch, Mireille suggested that they should go out to the opera. Kirika asked if it was to recon the location and Mireille nodded, although Kirika had the sneaking suspicion that if she hadn't suggested the recon, Mireille wouldn't have ever thought of it.

So in their best dresses, they headed to the quiet and cramped opera house for a few hours of listening to a fat man yell at the top of his lungs. Kirika was thankful that the best seats in the house were in a privet balcony, and not in front row. During a particularly high note, Mireille had the bright idea that no one would be able to hear a muffled gunshot if they fired during a high note. So, with bleeding ears, they headed back to their hotel, hoping the dossier on their target was right.

They followed the mark to the same opera house the next Saturday, confirming their plan. But to their surprise, the opera house was showing a different performance. It made sense, nobody would want to hear the same horribly high screams of a fat man more than once, but it really shook their plans. They would have to attend the opera on Friday and memorize when the high notes were so they could plan the best time to strike. Kirika suggested a tape recorder so they could time it exactly. Mireille was so happy about the suggestion that she reached over, grabbed Kirika, pulled her towards her and gave her an excited kiss.

But it would be another week until the next Saturday, with shopping done and sights seen, all they could do was study the plan. They got blue prints, out lined the lay out, learned the nearby landmarks, found different ways to escape and covered each and every contingency they could think of. By Wednesday they were sure that they had memorized the plan and didn't need anymore preparation. Mireille was getting restless and to Kirika's irritation, suggested that they go out again.

"Shouldn't we wait until after we've completed our job?" Kirika asked while she cleaned her firearm for the hundredth time.

"But I'm so bored, and this town is so beautiful. It wouldn't hurt and clear our heads before the mission." Mireille said with a pout.

Kirika doubted her performance would be altered whether or not they went out, she just didn't want to go out. "We still haven't learned the high notes of the opera yet."

Mireille frowned, "You know they don't change performances until Friday, there's nothing we can do until then. Let's go out and have a good time tonight, and we think about our job tomorrow."

"Mmm." Kirika said with a reluctant nod.

To Kirika's delight, the restaurant they went to turned out to be the same cafe they had followed their target to a few weeks ago. For the first time in her life, Kirika ordered before Mireille had a chance to. "One espresso please."

It was a small cozy cafe with less than ten tables. They had a booth in the back with a good view of the front door. Mireille toyed Kirika with a long bread stick, and to her surprise, Kirika engaged her childish taunts. As Mireille dangled the bread stick in front of Kirika, Kirika gave a soft whimper like a dog begging and took a bite. It wasn't much of a response, but seeing Kirika doing anything other than sitting there like a bump on a log, made Mireille smile. She didn't know if it was the coffee or if it was because of the atmosphere, but Mireille was glad she had chosen that cafe. When they finished, they paid and headed back to their hotel, holding hands.

Friday came and went. They had memorized the performance and decided on an early high note, so they could leave during the intermission and be long gone before the cleaning crew found him. They laid out their clothes, cleaned their weapons and got their bags packed for an early check out. They would buy their plane tickets in cash, make their way out of the country and take a nice long vacation. It was all set, all that was left was to get a good night's rest before tomorrow's mission.

But falling asleep wasn't as easy as Mireille would have thought it would be. Her mind filled with the thoughts of Kirika not coming back with her, getting hurt or killed or captured. It was like a nightmare before even falling asleep. It would have driven her mad, but thankfully, she felt a pair of warm hands snake around her waist and pull her close. Kirika usually crawled up next to Mireille at night, and tonight was the same. But, given the situation, this time Mireille wasn't annoyed by this action. This time, Mireille was thankful to feel her partner close to her, to feel her heart beating reassuringly, still alive.

The wait before a mission was always an adrenalin rush. They skipped breakfast and sat in silence watching the hours tick by until lunchtime. They dressed and stowed their weapons under their cloths, still waiting. Mireille heart was beating wildly in her chest so she tried to calm herself down. She looked at Kirika and took in a deep breath along with a long look at her partner's cute face. With a gasp, she realized Kirika looked out of place with a fancy dress but not any make up. They had half an hour to kill before the headed out, so Mireille decided it was better safe than sorry. She pulled Kirika over to the bed, grabbed her makeup bag and started to work.

"That tickles…" Kirika said in protest as Mireille painted her face. There was eyeliner and blush, shadow and lips stick. Mireille waited for Kirika to stop writhing around before trying again.

"Stop it. No one's going to notice." Kirika moaned, giggling softly.

It was the first time she had heard Kirika giggle or even act like a teenage girl. Mireille couldn't help herself, she climbed up on the bed close to Kirika and started tickling her with the makeup brush again. Kirika giggled again, but it was an awkward unrefined giggle, almost like she hadn't ever giggled before in her life. It was cute and innocent, which was bizarre to hear for such a troubled child, tainted with so much blood. Mireille suddenly felt sorry for Kirika, cursing the Soldats for stealing away her childhood. She wanted nothing more than to let Kirika experience the joys of giggling. She teased Kirika's face again, holing her down so Kirika couldn't wiggle free.

Before she knew it, the makeup brush had fallen to the bed, lost between them. Mireille started to tickle Kirika with her fingers, teasing her arms and stomach. Then, as this progressed, Mireille started to giggle too, realizing she never really had a chance to giggle as a child either. Emotion started to fill the room and without a clear transition, Mireille started kissing Kirika's soft lips. They kissed and tickled, Kirika joined in on the fun. Mireille looked down at Kirika rolling under her on the bed, her lipstick had smeared all over her face. She guessed that her lipstick too had smeared, but she hardly cared. Noon came and went, but as they rolled around on the bed in each other's arms, they couldn't think of anything else.

There was always next Saturday.

End

Author's notes

Sorry there was such a long delay between chapters, but there's a good reason. I finally broke in to writing more adult oriented fanfiction, and have posted about 13 stories over at AFF net. You can find me under the name Beef Jerkins, just look under Noir, but only if you're over 18. Hopefully my writing has improved with all the writing I've done. But I still need a lot of help, so if you think there is something I could do better, let me know.

You can probably guess where this next chapter is going, but if you've got suggestions, let me know and I'll work it in if I can. I'd also like to add to this chapter, but over at AdultFanFiction net. If you're interested, let me know in a review.

Thanks for reading.


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